Page 29 of Only Mr Darcy (Obstinate, Headstrong Girl #1)
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
E lizabeth had no plan, no notion what she could do to stop what was happening right before her eyes. Only one thought blazed clearly in her mind—to separate the evil Mr Wickham from the hold he had upon Miss Darcy’s person. Elizabeth ran, not slowing when Miss Darcy, her eyes widening, spotted her saviour moments before her companion did the same. She ran directly into the solid wall of Mr Wickham’s person, literally knocking him to the ground.
Despite his great astonishment—and probably, as she later reflected, due to much experience in tavern brawling—he rolled away, quickly regaining his footing. Elizabeth was not quite so fortunate, becoming tangled in her skirts and flailing about on the road, much like the fish she had so recently encountered upon the bridge. She had succeeded, however, in separating the couple, and Miss Darcy ran quickly to assist her.
“What the devil?” Mr Wickham shouted, brushing at his muddied trousers, turning a furious gaze upon her, and looking ready and willing to resort to physical violence.
Elizabeth clasped Miss Darcy’s helping hand, heaving herself up to a standing position. Her courage rising, she shook out her skirts and only gave the villain a brief, contemptuous glance. “Thank you, Miss Darcy,” she said in her most authoritative tones, while taking the younger girl’s arm. “Let us return to the house, dear, at once.” She turned her in the opposite direction.
“Georgiana, stop right there!” Mr Wickham demanded, balling his fists and taking a hostile step towards them while giving Elizabeth an evil glare. “She is my affianced bride! You do not know what you interrupt, and you have no business doing it!”
Miss Darcy froze, but Elizabeth barely glanced back over her shoulder as she swept past him, keeping a firm hold upon the girl. “I know enough, I think, Mr Wickham. But in case you do not, my godfather is the county magistrate, and he would not look kindly upon any of the actions which you might now be considering. It would be best for you, I daresay, to take your leave of this place along with any of your notions for a future with Miss Darcy, and do it quickly.” With a determined gait, she led Miss Darcy towards the break in the hedge, part of her expecting that any moment she might feel the man’s fists upon her and trying to both brace for possible pain and plan how to rescue the girl now clinging to her arm. Nevertheless, another part of her exulted.
Elizabeth had been in exactly the place she needed to be, a completely unlikely place for her to be, exactly when she needed to be there. The fish had been a sign—a real one, not imagined. Not a sign of silly jewels, handsome princes, or fairy tales come to life. Something more important.
Whatever the future holds, whatever my unfulfilled hopes and errant dreams, I am not a stupid, overly romantic girl drowning in foolish longings. And I am not, will never be alone.
They reached the breach in the hedge, however, without incident, and walked through onto Netherfield lands. With every bit of ground they henceforth covered, Mr Wickham was less and less likely to intercede, the odds of witnesses to whatever nefarious designs he might consider growing greater with every step.
A gardener appeared in the distance, trudging with buckets, and nodding to them both.
“Excuse me, sir,” Elizabeth called to him. “We noticed a carriage stopped on the lane yonder. I know not who it could be, but perhaps you might see if they are experiencing some sort of trouble with their vehicle? It seems an odd place for a person to linger.”
His brow furrowed; he nodded again, set down his pails, and strode off in the direction from which they had just come.
“There,” Elizabeth said, injecting comfort in her tone, and squeezing Miss Darcy’s arm. “If Mr Wickham thinks to lie in wait, he will soon be sent upon his way.”
“Oh, Miss Bennet. Oh, oh, Miss Bennet,” Miss Darcy sobbed, panting, and Elizabeth realised her friend was on the verge of hysteria. Elizabeth at once switched directions, steering her towards the bench they had occupied the last time they were alone together in Netherfield’s gardens. Once seated, there was nothing to do except let the distraught girl cry.
Elizabeth waited patiently, having had much experience consoling her sisters, and knowing there was no use asking questions until Miss Darcy could free her overwrought emotions. Thankfully, Elizabeth possessed a clean handkerchief in the pocket of her skirt, which she handed over, patting her young friend’s back in soothing circles while she wept. It allowed for rather too much time to consider all the ‘might have beens’ and the acknowledgement of more than a few of her own bruises, the result of her headlong flight into Mr Wickham’s person and subsequent collision with the hard earth. But at last, her companion’s deep shuddering breaths told her that restoration had found its way.
“What happened, dear?” Elizabeth asked gently, when she deemed the girl calm enough. “How is it that you came to meet with Mr Wickham in such a lonely place?”
Miss Darcy sighed. “A few weeks ago, I received a letter. It purported to be from my aunt, but of course, I knew from the writing that it was not.”
Elizabeth nodded. If one was determined to find a way to reach a person, one could usually prevail. “What did it say?”
“It-it was from him, of course. I have had two more since. He begged me to reconsider, to remember his love for me. Those—those also held threats, that he would tell e-everyone what I had done unless I met him for a final conversation. The last one, received yesterday, had the place and time named. He insisted I owed him that much.”
“Why did you not tell your brother? I am certain he would have ensured the churl never dared bother you again.”
She sighed once more. “I wanted to. I was trying to…to work up the courage to do anything except bawl like a great baby. Except Fitzwilliam has been so very unhappy of late. I am sure he is disgusted with me, despite his reassurances. I can tell he is. I thought…I hoped that if I spoke to Geo—er, Mr Wickham one last time, made it clear that there was no hope of reconciliation, that he might just…just go away. That it would all be over, with no trouble to anyone except me. But when I arrived at the appointed place, he would not listen. He told me I belonged to him, that I must keep my promise, and he tried to—tried to…”
“To force you to leave with him.”
“Yes. Yes, that.”
They sat together quietly in the waning afternoon light; Elizabeth knew that if she was to reach Longbourn before dark, she must hurry home as soon as possible.
“I have a long walk ahead of me, and must leave you now,” Elizabeth said. “Will you go into the house? And promise me that you will tell your brother the whole of what happened? I vow, it is not you who has been upsetting him.”
Miss Darcy looked sharply at her; Elizabeth looked back, wondering if she would ask more. After a long moment, however, the younger girl only nodded.
“But you must not walk home. I will ask for Mr Bingley’s carriage to be brought round to take you. I am certain Miss Bingley will not deny it.”
“No, but she would have questions—the answers to which I prefer you reveal to Mr Darcy alone. I will be home within the hour, I promise.”
Miss Darcy fretted, but when Elizabeth remained determined to go alone, she ceased delaying her and—with many expressions of gratitude—she let her go. But Elizabeth had only walked a few steps when Miss Darcy called out.
“Miss Bennet! I must ask—how did you know? How came you to be here, just when I needed you most?”
Elizabeth turned back to her, grinning. “A little fish told me.”
Miss Darcy’s brow furrowed. “Is not the saying, ‘a little bird told me’?”
Elizabeth shrugged, still smiling. “Birds or fishes, either one can be an angel in disguise.”
“Angels?” The younger lady looked surprised, but suddenly she nodded, her expression remaining serious. “Angels, yes. I missed the glimpse of wings at first, but I think I see them now.”